From the Editor:
In recent months Miss Whozit has answered reader questions about etiquette and
good manners, particularly as they involve blindness. If you would like to pose
a question to Miss Whozit, you can send it to the attention of Barbara Pierce,
1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21230, or email me at <bpierce@nfb.org>.
I will pass the questions along. Letters may be edited for space and clarity.
Here are the most recent letters Miss Whozit has received:

Dear Miss Whozit:

Can you give me advice
about what to do when, even though one is trying to behave graciously, one is
not treated graciously? Let us say that a blind person is dining at a social
event and is confronted by someone who insists on cutting one’s meat or offering
advice about table etiquette—and I don’t mean inquiring whether help or advice
is needed. Even when one courteously refuses the assistance or politely ignores
the advice, one’s comments are often not acknowledged or believed. What strategy
would Miss Whozit employ in such a situation?

Also what would Miss Whozit
advise when a blind person asks for clarification about directions. One needs
common sense and not “it is over there,” or “it is through the blue door.” Many
sighted people refuse to acknowledge that words are needed to convey the information
requested. Instead they play the pointing game. Even though the world is increasingly
visual, people agree, in theory at least, that we have a right to access information.
We would all manage a lot better if they remembered that the world is run by
those who are temporarily able-bodied. It is only a matter of time until they
too find themselves with some dysfunctional body part. What say you?

Thank you for your courteous
attention,
Tired of Being Picked On

Dear Tired:

Grandmother Whozit often
said when talking with the little Whozits about proper etiquette, “Gracious
is as gracious does.” Curiosity about blindness is both natural and appropriate
in everyone, blind and sighted. The biggest problem is that not everyone was
reared under the tutelage of Grandmother Whozit or the National Federation of
the Blind, so silly questions and inappropriate offers of help often tax our
patience and good manners.

As members of the National
Federation of the Blind we are not responsible for the actions of others, but
we are responsible for our own actions and reactions to events. We should take
every opportunity to educate the would-be assistants who intrude themselves
upon us. Granted, in the heat of uncomfortable moments, the impulse to educate
can be overwhelmed by embarrassment, annoyance, and frustration. One’s immediate
response is to refuse assistance and overwhelm the false assumptions by demonstrating
what blind people are capable of doing. Unfortunately, a curt and rigid refusal
of all assistance is usually interpreted as rudeness, and the parties inevitably
separate with a sour aftertaste in the mouths of both. The eager well-doer walks
away from the situation, thinking that not only can blind people not cut their
meat or demonstrate proper table etiquette, but they also have really bad attitudes
and are rude and hateful to boot.

This is not the message
about the skills and abilities of blind people that we want to impart. Dr. Jernigan
gives a great example in the Kernel Book story, “Please, Don’t Throw the Nickel,”
which can be found at <http://www.
nfb.org/books/kernel1/kern1302.htm>. In this article Dr. Jernigan tells
two stories of the ways he responded as a teenager and as a young man in his
twenties to similar instances in which he was offered unwanted and unneeded
help.

Maintaining decorum while
courteously explaining that specific help is unnecessary is always an appropriate
first reaction, but it is well to keep in mind a disquieting possibility. If
we find that different people frequently offer the same kinds of unsolicited
help, we should ask ourselves why. Like other blind people Miss Whozit has found
herself in situations in which a well-meaning but clueless stranger feels a
moral responsibility to do something to help a blind person. However, occasionally
Miss Whozit has been forced to conclude that an unsuspected problem or awkwardness
on her part is eliciting these repeated offers of help. When this happens, she
asks the advice of a trusted friend or an acquaintance whose opinion she respects.
Privately asking the opinion of such people helps Miss Whozit determine whether
some social skills require a little fine tuning.

As for the ongoing challenge
of gathering information, Miss Whozit vividly remembers the day she learned
how to gather good information when traveling. She was having a cane-travel
lesson at a National Federation of the Blind training center, trying to locate
an address. Uncertain of the correct direction, Miss Whozit happened upon a
pedestrian and asked for directions. It was apparent within a few moments that
the other person was uncertain how to provide the needed information. After
listening to a bit of verbal stumbling around, Miss Whozit simply requested
aural instructions. As the traveler began providing instructions, Miss Whozit
would point in the direction for clarification and repeat the directions as
she understood them. This technique is not only a means to clarify directions,
but also provides indirect education. The pedestrian walked away with new skills
and knowledge about giving directions to a blind person but, more important,
with a positive attitude about blind people.

It takes tact, patience,
and honesty to coax members of the public to offer willingly the information
and assistance that blind people need to travel and interact socially while
refraining from imposing assistance that is neither wanted nor needed. None
of us has the wit and discipline to get the combination of clarity and civility
right every time, but attempting to do so especially in the face of absurdity
or rudeness is the mark of maturity and grace.

Dear Miss Whozit:

I consider myself to be
fairly outgoing and to have normal to good social skills. But I have always
had problems dealing with large groups of sighted people. When I was a child,
I managed well when playing with one or two other children, but put them in
a group, and suddenly they had no time to answer my questions or give me the
information I needed to know what was going on.

Now, as a young adult,
I find it nearly impossible to make myself move into a large social gathering
and try to figure out what is going on, where the food or seats are, and who
might be present that I already know. If a band is playing, forget it. Everybody
has to yell to be heard, and I suspect that they are mostly lip-reading in order
to understand what others are saying. A blind friend told me that she had once
ventured into such a gathering only to be grabbed by a probably well-intentioned
man, who led her to a chair in a corner, got her a drink and some food, put
them into her hands, and then walked off, leaving her alone, not knowing exactly
where the door was or anything useful about the room or who was present.

Miss Whozit, I won’t ask
you what possesses sighted people to treat blind people like that, but what
can you suggest to me as a strategy to prevent my becoming such a victim and
maybe even help me to negotiate such situations graciously and gracefully? I
don’t suppose that I will ever enjoy such parties, but I would certainly be
grateful to get to the point where I no longer dread them.

Alone in a Crowd

Dear Alone:

The blind person may have
been born who has not suffered social pangs of the sort you describe, but Miss
Whozit has not yet met him or her. I suspect that most blind people feel more
comfortable in social settings in which they can clearly hear what is being
said and where they have some notion of who is present, where the furniture
is, and how it is arranged.

Nevertheless we all occasionally
find ourselves in unfamiliar settings in which we must mingle or resign ourselves
to shrinking into a corner before eventually creeping home, alone and miserable.
One can, however, make both long- and short-term preparations for such difficult
social occasions.

The more people in your
social circle you know by name and voice before a mixer, reception, or party,
the easier it is to identify people you know in the crowd. Become active in
campus organizations, social groups at work, or residents associations. You
can often get some information about the layout of the space, the location of
the bar and buffet table, and the placement of other points of interest by identifying
an acquaintance and asking him or her a few questions as soon as you come into
the room. The more people whose voices you recognize, the more likely you are
to identify someone to help get you started on your way around the room.

Stay on your feet and keep
moving about as conversations flag and you recognize voices or are introduced
to new people. No one has yet succeeded in depositing Miss Whozit in an out-of-the-way
chair when she did not wish to be seated. And I strongly suggest that you resist
such handling on principle. Members of the public may be uncomfortable when
they observe a blind person standing and listening for familiar voices or even
chatting with strangers. This seems to be one manifestation of the reflex that
afflicts some people to do something—anything —when a blind person does not
appear to be safely in the care of a responsible adult. It is, however, an impulse
worth resisting tactfully whenever possible. After all, the object of such social
gatherings is to meet people and chat. This can certainly be accomplished more
efficiently if one is up and moving.

Successfully navigating
around a large gathering requires the appearance, at least, of confidence and
poise. The congenitally timid should probably avoid such social events as often
as possible and structure their social lives around small gatherings and intimate
dinner parties. Those who are unwilling or unable to avoid large gatherings
should polish their cane skills. A cane or dog brands the user as blind, but
either tool explains why you aren’t engaging in the visual games that often
take place across a crowded room. The blind person who moves with grace and
seeming confidence radiates the message that nothing needs to be done to save
the situation or the poor blind person. In fact, curious or bold strangers may
even introduce themselves and inquire if you are looking for someone in particular.

Working a crowd at such
gatherings is almost always easier than you think it is going to be when you
are worrying about it ahead of time. Developing good cane skills and conversational
gambits, together with the confidence that having them at your command
engenders, will go a long way to making cocktail parties and receptions pleasant
rather than painful.

In closing I will say a
word in favor of sharpening one’s sense of humor. Even among young children,
the blind child’s ability to keep up with the crowd by using a cane and find
tactfully humorous ways of reminding the group that information is needed can
go a long way to smooth the path of fitting in. I am not suggesting making fun
of oneself in the name of being one of the gang. But cheerfully saying, “I’m
not going anywhere till I know whether Kelly has a squirt gun,” reminds everyone
that a little extra verbal information is in order. Finding one’s way through
such situations in childhood helps an adult take command in times of social
uncertainty. The most important thing is to practice. That’s the only way to
gain confidence.